A Shield Riven
by Celtic Knot
Summary: A short introspective on 6.20, "The Man Who Would Be King." Dean Winchester knew a thing or two about denial. Cross-posted on AO3.


_As I begin writing this, I just got hooked on_ Supernatural _a couple of weeks ago (thank you, Netflix) and saw the Season 6 episode "The Man Who Would Be King" last night. While I intended to watch the entire series before writing any fanfics, I couldn't let that one go. Castiel has been my favorite character almost since the moment he first showed up, and that episode left me breathless. So without further ado, here is my very first foray into the world of the Winchesters. I hope you enjoy!_

* * *

 **A Shield Riven  
** or  
 _Lie Down with Dogs_

Dean Winchester knew a thing or two about denial.

It was alternately his weapon and his crutch, driving him to seek solutions where better-adjusted people might accept the inevitable, but at the same time tempting him to bury his pain under a veneer of sarcasm and humor. More often the latter, if he were truly honest with himself. He could get lost in it if he wasn't careful.

And despite the bond they shared, Sam was little help. For as much as the two brothers complemented each other's strengths and weaknesses, they just as often enabled each other's vices. Every now and then, Sam would try to get Dean to let down his defenses, but he'd always back off at the first sign of resistance. The only… _being_ who'd ever had any success breaking through that wall of denial was, until now, the subject of it.

Castiel.

Castiel, the angel who now stood imprisoned in a ring of holy fire, his face impassive as always, but his blue-gray eyes betraying the roiling storm of anger, sadness, and fear that had driven him to such desperate lengths.

 _Shield of God._ That's what Sam had said his name meant. And he'd certainly made himself the Winchesters' protector. Damn it, Cas was their _friend._ He had hauled them both out of the depths of Hell, had pulled their asses out of the fire over and over again. He had rebelled and been cast out of Heaven for their cause. The very last thing Dean wanted to believe was that Cas could be colluding with a demon.

And not just any demon. Fucking _Crowley._

Betrayal was nothing new to the Winchesters. Meg, Ruby, Crowley—it came with the territory, dealing with demons. Each time, they'd take the hit, acknowledge the stupidity of even trying in the first place, and move on. But Cas? _Cas?_ That fucking hurt, man. Dean felt it like a white-hot knife twisting in his gut. That the angel would not only throw in his lot with the self-styled King of Hell, but then lie about it to the few humans he called friends… it cut deep. And to make matters worse, he genuinely couldn't see how wrong it was.

Couldn't, or _wouldn't._ Once again, Dean Winchester knew a thing or two about denial. And Castiel was obviously drowning in it.

God damn it, he was going to get them all killed, or worse. Why couldn't he understand that? He wanted to throw open the doors of Purgatory to fight his celestial civil war—but what would happen when that war was over? No way would all those monsters be quietly stuffed back into their box. It would be chaos. And that was the best-case scenario! If it was just Cas, acting on his own, maybe there might have been some tiny bit of hope, at least the promise of a workable plan, however long a shot it may be. But with Crowley's stinking filthy fingers in it, Dean couldn't imagine any possible way this could end well for anyone. Except maybe Crowley himself.

Could Cas even hear himself? _I can stop_ _Raphael!_ he'd insisted. He sounded like every origin story of every supervillain ever written, so single-mindedly obsessed with taking down his enemy that he was becoming the very thing he claimed to fight against.

Friggin' angels. Dean had called Cas a child before, and never had it seemed more fitting. Now that he'd discovered free will, he didn't know what to do with it, and he had promptly gotten himself in over his head. He was so used to having the power and mandate of Heaven at his back, so used to being nothing more than the instrument of a capricious but all-powerful God, that he simply couldn't fathom being _wrong._

That was it. Castiel had learned to doubt Heaven, but he hadn't yet learned to doubt himself. And that made him dangerous. A rogue Superman whose moral compass might no longer point north.

The three humans had tried to reason with him, pleading for him to turn back. And for an instant, Dean had thought they were getting through to him. For one slender, shimmering, hopeful moment, it had seemed Cas was coming around, was starting to realize just how wrong he'd been. Dean had been about two seconds from offering him the benefit of the doubt, from opening up the circle of flame and inviting him to join the hunt for Crowley. But then the sleazy bastard had found them himself, his legion of demons thundering across the sky, and that delicate thread had snapped. Cas had gritted his teeth and stood his ground, his only concession to the mangled remains of their friendship being to exhort his erstwhile companions to _run_.

Now, as Sam and Bobby fled, Dean paused in the doorway and looked back. _Don't do this, Cas. Please._ But if the angel heard his last, despairing prayer, he gave no sign. Only his eyes gave any clue that he still felt anything at all.

It was hard, so hard to leave him behind. They couldn't stay, though—it would mean a fight they weren't prepared for, and, though it about killed him to think so, Dean wasn't sure which side Cas would be on. If he was smart, he'd hide somewhere nearby, try to find out what Cas and Crowley had to say to each other, gather some intel on just what the hell was going on here. But to be honest… he didn't want to know. It was enough that Cas had admitted to working with the demon; he didn't have to see it with his own eyes.

After all, Dean Winchester knew a thing or two about denial.


End file.
